Chapter Two: Cage

Ryou blinked.

Hadn't he just been standing out in the rain, having been saved from certain death only moments before?

And now, he was currently sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar apartment, wrapped up in a thick blanket; his hair was still dripping, but he felt relatively warm. He sighed, looking down at his hands. He was really getting tired of having a short-term memory, even if it wasn't his fault that it was short-term...

"Bakura-san?"

The quiet voice broke Ryou from his thoughts, and he looked up at the voice. As soon as his eyes met the azure of the attractive Egyptian woman standing before him, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes came back to him in a blur. He only vaguely remembered being pulled out from in front of the car that seemed hell-bent on ending his life; after that, the boy who had saved him took him beneath his umbrella and led him back to this apartment. Ryou could just barely feel the light weight of the boy's hand on his upper back, urging him to continue walking.

That was it. He remembered now - the boy who had saved him was Malik Ishtar, the same person who had conspired with the spirit of the Ring during the Battle City tournament. The one who had caused the spirit to seal their deal by spilling Ryou's blood. The one whose other self had been created from his own inner torment, instead of from the Sennen Item that had been in his possession...

And this woman who was leaning down slightly, holding something out to Ryou - his sister, Isis, wasn't it...? This realization brought a new question to Ryou's mind: what were the Ishtars doing in Domino? Hadn't they gone back to Egypt?

Isis spoke again. "Here. Drink this."

Ryou looked down at the object in Isis' hands - a mug. He reached out for it, hands trembling; whether it was from the cold or the fact that he was still shaken from nearly being hit by a car, he wasn't sure. His hands clasped around the mug - it was quite warm - and he muttered a quiet "thank you", bringing it to his lips. Ryou could feel the warm liquid going down his throat, a faint taste of mint tea registering in his mind. When he'd downed half of the mug's contents, he stopped drinking, allowing the tea to settle within his stomach.

Which reminded him: he'd never gotten his cream puffs, so he was still quite hungry. But he would make due with what he had at the moment - he was positive that he was already imposing.

He felt a small hand upon his shoulder, and looked up again. Isis had a look of concern etched upon her face, and Ryou wondered what she was thinking at the time. Surely, she was questioning why he had been brought into her apartment on this stormy night... however, a completely different question arose. "How are you feeling, Bakura-san?" she asked, worry apparent in her voice.

"I... I feel..." Ryou mumbled. He wasn't really sure how he felt. He was hungry, thirsty, hot, cold, sleepy, tired, worried, embarrassed, depressed-

"Drink the rest of your tea," Isis said, gently taking hold of his wrist. She guided the mug back up toward him. "You'll feel better."

Ryou nodded weakly, and proceeded to drink what was left in the mug. Isis was right; within minutes he could feel his body warming up from the inside out. But he still felt pretty miserable. He wanted to go home and get some sleep - but then, he didn't want to go home either. Not with the Ring there. He didn't know what to do, but he certainly didn't want to be a bother to Isis and her family.

"I... I'm sorry," Ryou muttered, feebly standing up. "I need to get home now-"

"No, Bakura-san, stay right there," Isis said, gently - yet firmly - pushing him back down onto the couch. "It's still raining outside; you'll be sick if you go out into the storm again."

Ryou frowned, pouting slightly. "But... I don't want to impose..."

Isis smiled gently at him, lightly placing her hand on top of his still-wet head. "You're not imposing, Bakura-san. After all, it was my brother's decision to bring you here. Don't blame yourself for that."

Ryou opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by another voice coming from the hallway. "Hey Isis, shower's free." Two heads turned to face the new speaker, and Ryou's brown eyes met with the violet of Malik, who was leaning against the doorframe that led to said hallway. Judging from the slightly-damp hair and the towel draped over his shoulders, he'd just emerged from the shower - he was already dressed, in a simple black t-shirt and shorts.

"All right," Isis responded, nodding slightly. She looked back down at Ryou, hand still on his head. "Why don't you take a nice hot shower, Bakura-san? You look like you're freezing."

"Um..." Ryou's eyes fell downward, to see that he was shivering slightly. Despite the blanket around him, he was still rather wet, and a warm shower sounded rather appealing. He looked back up at Isis, seeing that she wasn't going to take no for an answer, and nodded weakly. "... Okay..." He slowly stood, dropping the damp blanket onto the couch. He would've picked it up, but he felt much too weak to do so.

"Just leave your clothes in the laundry basket, and I'll dry them for you," Isis said, giving Ryou a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom.

"Thank you," Ryou muttered, slowly making his way toward the bathroom, eyes fixed on the ground. As he drew closer, he glanced up at Malik, who was still leaning against the doorframe. Time seemed to slow down a bit as the slightly taller boy regarded Ryou with a piercing gaze that said I want to talk to you. Ryou just barely felt the blood rushing to his face, and he cast his eyes to the floor again as he silently passed Malik. He could feel the blonde's eyes still on him as he walked down the hallway and entered the bathroom, which was still quite steamy from Malik's shower.

Shutting the door behind him, Ryou instantly felt the hot air warming up his skin. As he peeled off his wet clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket, he sniffled, feeling a sneeze coming on. Great, just what he needed - the beginnings of a cold. Although, he really had nobody to blame but himself; after all, when one wanders aimlessly in the rain for God-knows-how-long, there's no telling what sort of things will happen to one's respiratory system. That, in conjunction with the slightly runny nose, was enough to convince Ryou that his virtually nonexistent immune system had failed him once again.

But, enough dwelling on that. Now is shower-time.

As Ryou stepped into the scalding spray of water - which was only considered "scalding" because his skin was cold to the touch - he instantly felt his body begin to warm up. The frigid water that was dripping from his hair now dripped warm; the droplets of water that fell onto his back soothed his aching muscles, rather than numbing them like the freezing rain had. He turned around, and hissed slightly as the water came into contact with the cut on his cheek, which had been forgotten until it had started stinging just then.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he stood under the steaming water, but the sudden cold snapped him away from whatever thoughts he was having: wanting to be hit by a car, almost being hit by said car, being saved from said car, the boy who saved him from said car... Ryou turned off the water and stepped out, steam flooding his vision again. As he dried himself off, he spied a small dark pile of something on the bathroom counter - somebody had left a t-shirt and a pair of shorts for him to wear, of which he assumed were Malik's. That thought in mind, Ryou once again sighed to himself. He was absolutely positive that he was imposing now, despite what Isis had told him a while ago. Though, since his own clothes were still quite wet - and not to mention cold - he didn't really have much of a choice but to put on the ones provided.

When he finished dressing, Ryou stepped out of the bathroom, vigorously rubbing his long hair with a towel. He emerged back into the living room, draping said towel over his shoulders; he guessed that Isis had turned in for the evening, as there was nobody in the room - except for Malik, who was sitting on the sofa, blankly gazing at the television in front of him.

Ryou bit his lip. That look that Malik had given him on his way to the bathroom... it lingered within his memory, and he quietly approached the sofa, wondering if Malik even knew he was there. "... Um-"

"Sit," Malik said, cutting him off. He gestured toward the expanse of couch that lay between he and Ryou.

Ryou blinked, somewhat taken aback by the command, but he wordlessly obliged, sitting on the far end of the couch. He nervously twisted the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers, wondering what Malik had to say. Was he going to question why he'd been out in the rain? Was he going to ask about the cut on his face?

... Did he want to speak to the spirit of the Ring?

Ryou's answer soon came to him in the form of a question. "... What were you doing out in the middle of the road like that? Did you not see the car coming?"

Ryou tensed, and slowly shifted his eyes toward Malik. The Egyptian was looking at him again, that same look in his eyes that had been there before - that very intense, yet somewhat curious gaze that felt as if her were staring into the depths of Ryou's soul, trying to find the answers to his questions. For a split-second, Ryou wondered if Malik was angry with him for some reason, as the look on his face was so serious, yet the other's posture informed him otherwise - Malik had his elbow resting on the arm of the sofa, one leg tucked beneath the other.

"Um... I..." Ryou started. He didn't want to tell Malik why he had been out in the road, yet somehow he knew that he would feel better if he could just vent and let all of his thoughts out; however, he would rather not burden Malik with all of his problems. "I didn't see it..." he quietly muttered, hoping that Malik would believe him.

"Yeah right," Malik said, straightening himself. "You were staring at it, like a literal deer-in-headlights."

His tone of voice caused Ryou to cringe - he hadn't expected Malik to sound so... angry. Casting his eyes down toward an interesting-looking gnarl on the coffee table, he hesitantly continued, voice barely audible. "... I couldn't move. I was so scared that it would hit me, that... I just couldn't move." Well, he was speaking the truth - but not the entire truth.

Malik's tone was softer when he spoke next. "That doesn't explain why you were out in the road in the first place - and in this storm, no less."

Ryou sighed. It was obvious that Malik wasn't going to let up until he got some answers. "I... really didn't know that I was out in the road until I saw the car coming... I just started walking, not knowing where I was going, or how long I was wandering..." A quick glance at the clock told Ryou that it was nearly midnight. Had he been out that long? It was then that he realized just how exhausted he was. Ryou reached up and ran his fingers through his tangled wet hair, in an attempt to straighten it out a bit; he was positive that he looked worse than when he'd seen himself in the mirror early that evening.

Only when Ryou moved some of his bangs aside did Malik notice the long red line across his cheek. "... Bakura, what happened to your face?" he asked, leaning closer. He reached over, turning Ryou's face toward his so he could get a better look at the cut.

The sudden closeness between them brought a light blush to Ryou's face - he hoped that Malik wouldn't notice, or pass it off as a fever-induced flush at most. "I... don't know," Ryou said, truthfully. He was fairly positive that it had been done while the thief was in control of his body; exactly how it was acquired was a mystery to him.

"... You'd better get that cleaned good, or it might get infected," Malik said, not indicating that he'd noticed the coloring of Ryou's face. "I'll be right back." With that, he stood up and started walking toward the bathroom, Ryou's eyes following him the whole way. Moments later, he returned with a small rag in one hand and a bottle of peroxide in the other.

Malik opened the bottle, the pungent smell of the liquid soon filling the room. He wrinkled his nose up at the scent before holding the rag to it and inverting the bottle. "This will sting a bit," he said, looking back at Ryou. As soon as the end of the cloth was thoroughly soaked with the peroxide, Malik turned the bottle back over and sat it on the coffee table. He took Ryou's chin in his hand again, and lightly dabbed the cut on his cheek with the rag.

Ryou let out a hiss as the rag came into contact with the cut; he was right, it did sting. However, he simply bit down on his lip in order not to make any other sounds to indicate that he was in pain. He looked down at the couch as Malik continued cleaning the small wound, only looking back up again when the other boy had released his chin.

"It doesn't look very deep, so I don't think it'll need stitches or anything, but still. Try to keep it clean until it scabs over." Malik laid a hand on Ryou's shoulder, raising an eyebrow as the latter's cheeks colored again.

"... Okay," Ryou mumbled, nodding weakly. If Malik had been sitting any closer to him, he was pretty sure that he would blush himself into a coma - why, he wasn't sure. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he always got flustered when in close physical contact with others. Or he could always keep blaming it on the cold that he'd seemingly come down with.

After a few moments of silence, Malik stood up and walked over to a window. He gazed out of it for a minute, and then turned to look at Ryou again, a frown on his face. "I don't think this storm's going to let up anytime soon, so you'd better stay here tonight." He paused, walking closer to the couch. "I'm not going to lie to you: you look like hell right now, and being out in that rain anymore won't do you any good."

Ryou looked up at Malik, slightly surprised. While he was completely against burdening the Ishtars anymore than he already was, the idea of going back out into the storm was getting less and less appealing. All he really wanted to do was curl up in a warm blanket, and at this point, he didn't particularly care where it was. "Okay..." he repeated, settling on the couch. "Um... I'll just sleep here..."

"No, the couch is still a little wet, and you don't look like you should be sleeping on something wet right now," Malik said, shaking his head. "You can sleep in my room, I'll stay out here."

... Wait, what? Ryou stood up, shaking his head in protest. "Oh, I couldn't possibly do that... I'll be fine here, I swear..."

"Bakura," Malik said in an impatient tone, "I told you, it's fine. I've slept in worse conditions, believe me. You, on the other hand, could use a good night's rest, and I doubt you'll be able to get that on a damp couch.

A small sigh escaped from Ryou's lips. Malik obviously wasn't going to take no for an answer, and he nodded in defeat.

"It's at the far end of the hallway." Malik pointed down the hall, toward the open door at the end. He took a step toward Ryou, that intense gaze returning as he looked the shorter boy straight in the eyes. "And don't think you're getting off the hook this easily. I expect some real answers tomorrow."

Ryou swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and nodded yet again, before slowly shuffling toward the Egyptian's room. When he reached the doorway leading into the hall, he looked over his shoulder at Malik. "...Malik-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"... Thank you," Ryou said quietly, a tiny smile forming on his face. "Good night," he said, before turning back around and continuing down the hallway. He barely heard the 'good night' spoken after him as he entered Malik's room, shutting the door behind him.

He took a moment to examine his surroundings. Like a room that had only recently been moved into, it was quite plain. There was little furniture; only a dresser, a bed, and a small nightstand with a lamp on it. There were a few articles of clothing spread about the blue-carpeted floor, and the only thing adorning the walls was a large tapestry on the wall over the bed - one with many hieroglyphs etched across it.

After gazing at the tapestry for a few moments, Ryou snapped back into reality and walked toward Malik's bed. At this point, he could hardly tell up from down as he pulled back the soft blanket and climbed between the sheets. He used his last little bit of energy to turn off the lamp, before succumbing to a deep sleep that fell upon him as soon as his head hit the pillow.